Archive for the 'nf' Category

You know those moments when everything seems just right? Those times when you’ve just got back from a tiring day, and decide to just chill? Just chill out with some good music and something to munch on.

Well, I’m having gone of those right now. Working my way through yet another box of assorted chocolates, gnawing through the caramel inside some of them. The score provided by an album called the Flying Carpet(No, not the Aladdin soundtrack). Bliss. Bliss that _you_ can’t have. Which makes it even more blissful. I’m so blissfully blissful that I could just buy a motorbike, ride across the country with bliss and get a t-shirt that says “If you can see this, Bliss fell off” on the back.No troubles exist for me. Work tomorrow? No problem. Almost broke? I don’t care. Chocolates. Stumbled upon a serial killer’s kidnap victim trapped in a basement, who I’m supposed to alert the authorities about? Tch. I cannot concern myself with such petty squabbles.

I vaguely remember The WhacksteRRR going on about something or the other. His imagination running off with a dead man or something like that. Though a word to the wise dude, those undead ca-

*Phonecall*

‘Oh, speaking of the devil, here he calls. Wonder what’s up.’

*Answer*

I’m momentarily distracted by my mom, then eventually listen to what he’s saying. I start to hear the contents of my last message read back to me.

*Panic*

Panic, because the message, that blasted message, was something you do NOT send to another male friend. Under no circumstances do you let anyone get a peek of a message that throws light on your carebear-ey side. And here I was, listening to the contents of one such message being recited to me. Multiple times, for some reason :P

I contemplate telling him it was a prank, that I was kidding him. But the contents would be hard to explain. Thoughts of explaining that I’d recently turned to the rainbow-coloured side and that I was madly in love with him briefly crossed my mind. ANYTHING would be better than somebody else being in possession of that message.

We kid around and he agrees to be agreeable. For absolutely no compensation. Oh yeah, there was something about he being in my posts in a positive light but all that was just minor details. I also kiddingly added that he should return the message to me so that I could mail it to the correct recipient. But lo and behold, I get it back from him after the phonecall. So now I have a lovey-dovey message from him too. Heh. Still, it’s not quite the same.

So, phonecall ended.

I vaguely remember The WhacksteRRR going on about something or the other. His imagination running off with a dead man or something like that. Though a word to the wise dude, those undead ca-

All hail TheWhacksteR.

Moral of this story : ALWAYS verify who you’re sending your messages to, and Whacko is great.

I inspect my face in the mirror. It looks a bit sharper, more rough. The kind of face you get after a few days of wandering around in jungles. Corporate or otherwise. Complete with sagging eyes and unkempt beard, I was a regular Robinson Crusoe. Or if I wasn’t in such a wannabe-white-boy mood, a regular veddha. But that sounds less sexy. Even my head was spinning for god knows why.

How did I end up like this? Rewind a few hours.

8:30pmI’m hoping there are buses to Colombo from Hanwella, where I just got off a bus from Kitulgala to pick up a few small but essential things I left at a friend’s house. I’m all too aware that I’m a dude carrying an enormous bag in the middle of the night, with wires sticking out of my pocket. Needless to say, the other two people there edged away. As if they’d get any less blown up if I was indeed a suicidal pyromaniac. Finally, a bus arrives. I get on it and find all the seats taken. I glare at some kid staring at me. Eventually I get a seat and promptly fall asleep. wake up just before I’m supposed to get off in Pettah, and in my absent mindedness, nearly waved and yelled at everyone after I got off, since that was what I did the last time I was on a bus.Thankfully I stopped myself after turning around to face it, and before my hand was up.

A few sheepish minutes laterIt’s 9:20 by now and I’m too tired to lug my bag all the way to near the station. I doubt there would have been any buses there anyway. So I set off into the deserted private bus stand looking for a long distance bus going my way. Find one and sit. My legs praise my wise decision and my brain rewards me with a feeling much like having my legs sponged down by doting nymphs. Imagination runs amok when you’re sleepy. Bus finally pushes off after 20 minutes or so and I keep my eyes glued to the road since these buses travel pretty fast. After approximately three minutes, I fall asleep. Time and space pass.

Wake up. Look outside, recognize nothing. Realizing that the best measure of where I am is the time, I consult my phone. It tells me it’s 10:30. Right. I should have been near my house at about 10:10. The bus stops to drop some dude so I jump off just as he starts accelerating again. First thing that pops out of the darkness as I try to slow my rapidly displacing person is one of those concrete mile post things. After rushing around it and finally stopping, I find myself standing in the middle of a puddle of water. I scan a lonely shop sign for any mention of location. It says Belummahara. Doesn’t ring any bells. So I pull out my phone. Yakkala. Egad. I’m dead. At this point it strikes me that my approximate location nearly hit me in the face as I got off the bus. I go back to look at the milepost. It says 26km along the A1. Highly distressing considering there’s one just like that where I live which says 14. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that I went exactly twice the distance I wanted to go. *shake fist at sky* So, armed with my approximate location and some money, but also crippled by a large red bag and some money, I cursed myself for not staying on the bus till the last stop so I could just get another back.

Now, Colombo may not be so bad at 10:40 in the night, but once you go out of it, Sri Lanka is a dead country, save for the occasional gang of thugs or the lone old man on a bicycle. You can imagine what it was like to be standing on the side of a deserted road with paddy fields on one side and a few derelict looking buildings on the other. Look in the direction of home. Emptiness. I look the other way, looks like vehicles in the distance. Start walking and stick my hand out at any three wheelers that pass. They all rush past. I start contemplating hiding my bag somewhere and sleeping at the step of some building. I also contemplate being mugged by some dude, since I’m practically a walking traffic cone what with the bag being a bright red. I think I was just too tired to panic. Eventually I get to a junction like place and see two three wheelers stopped by the side of the road. Hallelujah! Get in one and head back. Talk to the driver about stuff like terrorists, the bomb the day before and public transport being nonexistent at night. Get off, pay, and quickly walk the few meters to my gate. Open. Stick key into lock, turn, and be greeted by The Music Of The Night. My dad’s reading something on the couch while playing music just loud enough to indoctrinate those trying to sleep. Not so loud that it disturbs, and not quiet enough to ignore. He goes “HMM” at me. I stumble into my room and start pulling out all sorts of half drenched things from my pockets. Wallet, pieces of paper and phone etc. Start feeling dizzy. 11:24.

I inspect my face in the mirror.–

Things I learned in camp-

Never take things that don’t like getting wet on hikes.

Turn down requests to be team leader if it involves motivating the team on hikes.

Wear appropriate shoes on hikes. Multi-terrain sneakers might make you feel like spiderman, but you’ll regret it later when you wonder how to get all that mud off.

I’m still in pretty good shape physically!

The wood they give you to make rafts is not adamantium cored.

Rowing is hard.

Rowing backwards is harder.

There is no such thing as too much camouflage face paint.

–

Will get to reading all your blogs in a bit. Till then, just imagine I commented and leave a response. Actually, use this as my standard comment – “Yeah right. Go ears! lol. hit me baby one more time and lick a goat! woo”.There.

…Is unavailable at the moment, due to severe mental instability caused by the subject matter of the title.Relationships, not Jerry.

Reeled you in with THAT one eh? Expected ol’ me to talk about confusion, surprise, death, destruction and many, many ribbons? That’s not what relationships are about? I didn’t notice. -_-Yes rf, I stole your smiley. Bite me.

Anyway,

Since I’ve established that you lot are a bunch of cricket hating traitors to the motherland, with only a few of you even having a soul, I have nothing left to write here. :s I’ve tried to pin it on someone sucking my life out, but I’m not so sure now. I’m eating breakfast at the moment, crumpets. I used to love this stuff, and now I’m just barely getting them down my throat. Come on, loss of appetite? Much time spent in a confused daze mulling over what to do? Yes people, I’m dying.

I see that I’ve made it to somelists. Go read my opinion on ranking at the respective posts. Although I love these sorts of things, since I am ‘at the core’ a vain, attention starved kid, I am quite disappointed by where I stand in all this. Well what do you expect? I still claim to have an ego that can by itself be classified as a planet. Anything less than a score of 141089 out of 5 is a disgrace. But still, I seem to be slowly withering away. Not in real life, that is, just me as in what you see here. Which is about 80% of real life.

I will join the ranks of the undead with grace.Wish me luck in plodding through life at a slow trudge,and munching at your skull if I can’t find a fudge.

Don’t ask.

And to whom it may concern, and by that I mean Dee, I AM NOT SKINNY :P . I am the proud owner of a BMI that is on the right end of the ‘average’ marker. An upper middle class BMI, if I may say so myself.

Ladies and gentlemen, and Gehan, some retard’s gotten hold of my number and has been calling and hanging up occasionally. Ever so bravely. You know the best part? They think I’m a gal. One long past Saturday morning at 7am, I am woken by my phone vibrating my skull. So I had two choices, ignore it or move it away. Since both involved me having to move, I decided to go the whole hog and answer it. Some weird number. “Hello?”.[silence]. “Ado, kollek ne gaththe”(Hey, a dude picked it up). So after a quick message inquiring which of their oh so reliable contacts had gotten my number to their eager, foaming at the mouth at a girl hands(Never DID get a reply…), I thought they’d get the hint and stop.

Not so. The towering geniuses(geniusi?) had decided that their source couldn’t possibly have been lying to them , and called again. Just yesterday. Yet again they are completely baffled by a male voice at the other end. Do they use a list or something? Aren’t you supposed to tick off each number that has been unsuccessful?

I’m pretty sure it’s not a prank caller since it would have to be a well, prank, to qualify. This is just the annoyance of answering the phone. None of the questioning of sexual preference and retorts, suggestions of a growth in your spleen and further questioning of whether said growth has started the laying of eggs, that usually follow. This guy is to prank calling what a guy who plays Guitar Hero is to Carlos Santana. He is but a 12 year old girl in the world of prank calling.

Anyway, in case it’s one of you bastards out there, let me spell it out to you. I man. You man. I no like man-man love. I no need extra wee wee to play with. Go away.

My hair’s all screwy again. Not that it’s too short, but now it’s just too unmanageable. Yes yes, I always complain. Just like small children. They yell when they’re happy, they yell when they’re sad and they yell when you throw them in the garbage. Back to my hair, as some of you might remember, earlier my hair was too short. Then there was a brief period of perfect hair length, lasting about 43 seconds. I tried to take pictures, but it took too long and my hair went back to being mediocre. Now it’s all strange. Right after a shower, it’ll be malleable and will form into anything I wish. Then in a few minutes it goes back to being a stubborn SOB. It’s sentient I tell you. But not sentient like cool transforming robots sentient. More down to earth. Very down to earth, like a gecko or something. Just barely aware of existing, yet living to make tour life a living hell. I don’t know about the Geckos around your house, but mine launch little stones at me when I sleep. True story. But now it’s just too lazy for me to get it to do anything right. So I’m wondering whether to grow it more and hope for the best or just chop it off like so many trees in a rain forest.

The Women bit———-

Yeah uh, I really don’t remember why I titled this post “…Hair & Women”. Just a general warning out to all males out there, for god’s sake be careful when you zip up beware of the the newest ‘most dangerous thing on the planet’ that will ruin your life; The Woman Looking For A Friend(WoLFF). A WoLFF is a strange creature. It will make you want to repeatedly hit yourself with a blunt object. It will be all furry and cute at first and then bite you in the ass when you’re not paying attention. I take the liberty to quote a very wise man in saying it is akin to going to a job interview, being the best of the lot, yet not being hired. Further, they will call you up frequently to complain about the person they DID hire, all the while extolling their qualifications, which are much inferior to yours. So stay the hell away from a woman who says she wants to be ‘just friends’ if you know what’s good for you.

The ” ” bit————

I discovered the next next best thing too. Milo and a blender. Psh, Domestic Goddesses and human cookie machines can’t touch this.

Started out brilliant, Friday was great, Saturday I got to meet a bunch of people again, albeit briefly, and with ice cream. Then later I discovered the next best thing since sliced bread. Chocos and ice cream. You should try it. It will be the easiest recipe you ever come across. Take sufficient amount of cereal, add milk to the bottom, then add ice cream on top. Don’t worry about measuring things, measurements are for the weak. While thanking god for this divine gift upon mankind, I noticed the pack said something like “Part of a wholesome breakfast” and then pictures of fruits and things. Last time I checked, cereal WAS breakfast. Hell, I even eat the stuff for dinner. That’s an advantage of growing up. You can act like a kid all you want and do all the things you wanted to do when you were one.

So Saturday _almost_ finished great. Then I discover my PC’s got some sort of infection. So I think “It’s just another autorun infection thingy, no biggie”. I was wrong. So wrong I couldn’t have been more wrong if I’d tried to send ‘Lose Fat Fast’ to Somalia. Turned out it was an actual virus and I spent most of Sunday trying to get rid of it. It looks clean now, but I’m still too afraid to open winamp without scanning it first, which I should be doing later today. Oh yeah, I haven’t got an AV installed.